


Devil Went Down to Georgia

by flashforeward



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashforeward/pseuds/flashforeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you save someone who's trapped in his own mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Canto I: Devilsh Entrance

**Author's Note:**

> Moving more things over from LJ!

_Captain’s Log, Stardate 3910.9: The Darkness of space seems all the more overwhelming as I stand here, staring down at the still, lifeless body that beamed aboard with us. I don’t want to believe – can’t believe – anything I saw down on the surface of that God forsaken planet. Nurse Chapel assures me he’s still breathing, that there’s still a chance, but Mr. Spock, Vulcan that he is, has informed me of the exact odds. They are not appealing._

_If I could, I’d beam back down there and wring the necks of every one of those foul creatures who did this until they undid it, but I know that will only make matters worse. I can’t even order Sulu to get us as far from here as possible as quickly as possible, as Mr. Scot informs me that our engines are, for some inexplicable reason, not responding to the helm and it will take him far too long to diagnose the problem and fix it. I have no doubt it is the Qillarans’ doing._

_We are stuck orbiting this rock, at the mercy of its less than benevolent inhabitants, for as long as they deem necessary._

_I will not stand for it._

****

**I**

The stars shown brightly in the black-blue sky, twinkling and dimming as wispy clouds passed by, pushed lazily along by the soft wind that rustled in the trees. The moon hung bright and full, bathing the house below in a soft, white light. On the porch, curled up on a creaking rocking chair, was a young girl. Soft brown hair tumbled to her shoulders, and her head drooped down, her eyes blinking furiously as she struggled to stay awake.

She’d already waved her mother off, insisting that she wasn’t tired, and the cosmos be damned if she wasn’t going to prove it!

“You’re stubborn,” her mother had said, fighting back the amused smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth. “You get that from your father.”

“I know!” the girl had pronounced proudly, settling down into the rocking chair and staring out at the dark road that led up to the house, waiting. Her mother had shaken her head, clicking her tongue lightly, but she’d said nothing else, disappearing into the house and watching from the window while she feigned interest in one of the new novels her husband had brought back after one of his trips into town.

She had to be sure her baby was safe, after all.

The girl’s head shot up as the soft clop of hooves on hard dirt reached her ears, filling her with a renewed energy. She sprang from the chair, jumping up and down and clapping her hands, her excitement drawing her mother from the house.

“He’s home, he’s home!” the girl cried, clutching at her mother’s hand and pulling her towards the porch railing. The mother kept a hand on the girl’s waist as she leaned over the railing, trying to see as far as she possibly could.

“Joanna,” Mother said. “Be careful.” As she spoke, horse and rider came into view, and Mother couldn’t hold Daughter back as she rushed forward, clutching at her father’s leg and calling up to him excitedly.

“Did you bring me something, Daddy?” she asked as he carefully dismounted, handing the reigns off to the young servant boy who’d appeared from around back (and disappeared just as quickly with the animal).

“Hullo, Leonard,” Mother said with a smile, leaning towards her husband, He kissed her lightly on the cheek, a small smile gracing his face as his daughter continued to tug at his pant leg, looking up at him expectantly. He stooped and swept her up into his arms, grinning at her and hugging her tight.

But she’d have none of that. She squirmed in his grip until he loosened his hold enough for her to lean back and look at him.

“Didja bring me something, Daddy?” she tried again.

“Well, I dunno, Joanna, didn’t I bring you somethin’ the last time?” Leonard asked, winking at his wife, who shook her head, despite the smile on her face.

Joanna looked disappointed. “You promised, Daddy. You said whenever you had a chance to go in town, you’d bring me somethin’ back. You promised!”

“You did promise, Leonard,” his wife said, her voice soft.

Leonard looked over at her, shifting Joanna’s weight to his other hip, and shook his head. “Well,” he said. “I suppose we’ll just have to go inside and see.” He started for the door, Joanna clapping excitedly in his ear and his wife following behind, ready to turn in for the night after a long day of work and travel.

“It’s good to be home,” he whispered after he’d sent Joanna to bed, her new toy clutched to her chest. He pressed a kiss to his wife’s temple, holding her close to him. “I missed you, Jocelyn,” he whispered. “Missed you so much.”

**II**

 

“Captain, Nurse Chapel informs me of a sudden spike in brain-wave activity. She thinks it would be prudent if you and I went down to Sick Bay to see for ourselves.” Spock sounded so calm, so clinical, Kirk almost wanted to slap him, to remind him it was their friend on that examining table, not some stranger, but that was Spock’s way. More Vulcan than human, Kirk had learned to expect things like this, but it was still hard to understand.

“What kind of spike?” Kirk asked, glancing at the view screen and the death-trap of a planet waiting below.

“She believes that he is dreaming, Captain.”

“Dreaming, Mr. Spock?”

“Yes, Captain. And she believes the Qillarians are the cause.”

“Shall we?” Kirk gestured towards the turbo-lift, following Spock as the headed for Sick Bay. The corridors were empty, almost desolate, as they walked to those all too familiar doors, into that all too familiar room. Nurse Chapel was waiting for them, stationed beside the unconscious body of the Enterprise’ Chief Medical Officer, worry etched on her face.

“Nurse,” Kirk said with a nod towards the stationary man behind her. “What have you found?”

“I’ve been monitoring his heart for the most part, Captain,” she replied as Spock and Kirk came around to the other side of the table. “Making sure it’s still beating, you know? But then I took a glance at his brain function and found something that may help us.”

“Help us how?” Kirk prompted.

“Well, whatever dreams he’s dreaming are vivid,” Chapel explained. “So vivid, in fact, that he probably believes that he’s actually living them.”

“They are dreams,” Spock cut in. “Are they not strange enough for the unconscious mind to determine that they are not, in fact, reality?”

“Usually, yes,” Chapel replied. “But I believe that whatever images he’s seeing or things he’s experiencing have been put there by the Qillarians, that they’re controlling what’s happening in his mind, making him believe that he’s actually there. That what’s happening is real.”

“Can you confirm this?” Kirk asked. “Can you bring him out of it?”

“No, Captain,” Chapel said, shaking her head, any excitement she’d had at her deduction replaced by sadness at her inability to act. “We have no way of tapping into the human mind, no way to lure him out.”

“Captain, if I may suggest an alternative?” Spock inquired.

“By all means, Mr. Spock,” Kirk encouraged. “We’re stuck here anyway, what harm can it do?”

Spock looked to Nurse Chapel, though he spoke to them both. “As you are aware, Vulcan’s possess some telepathic ability. Not to the extent of the Qillarians, but enough, I believe, to be of use in this matter.”

“Spock, are you saying you can get into his head; into his dream?”

“That is precisely what I am saying, Captain,” Spock said, turning his head to look his commander in the eye. “It may take some doing, considering the strength of the Quillarian mind, but if I can ease myself into his dream, perhaps I can lure him out, help him to realize it isn’t real.”

Kirk turned to Nurse Chapel, concern and hope mingling on his face. “Will it be harmful to him?” he asked, gesturing towards their patient.

“As long as Mr. Spock is careful, no,” she replied. “But he’ll have to go slow, take his time. If he tells Dr. McCoy too much too quickly, he could cause him to go into shock.”

“Proceed, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, nodding to his first officer and stepping out of his way. Spock knelt down by McCoy’s head, positioning his hands around the unconscious man’s face, his thumbs at McCoy’s temples, his middle and pointer finger at the chin.

“Wait!” Chapel called out, stepping forward and taking Spock’s hand, stopping the connection before it began.

“What now?” Kirk asked, doing nothing to hide his impatience.

Chapel looked straight into Spock’s eyes, her voice heavy with the seriousness of her words. “To him, this is no dream. What happens to him while he’s unconscious could affect his physical body.”

“In other words, Nurse, ‘be careful’?” Spock finished for her. She nodded, then stepped away, releasing Spock’s hand. He returned to his task.

**III**

 

“Did you get up for the sunrise, Daddy?” Joanna asked, sipping at her orange juice as she watched her father eat his oatmeal.

“I did indeed, Joanna,” he replied, taking a sip of his own juice and smiling down at his daughter. “I did indeed. Did you want me to wake you up for it?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Jocelyn interrupted, setting a bowl of oatmeal down on her daughter’s place. Joanna nodded, grinning as she dug into her breakfast, eating so quickly Leonard wondered if she even had a chance to taste any of it.

He didn’t wonder for long. A loud rap came at the door and he was up from his chair in a heartbeat, stopping Jocelyn from getting up herself. “Enjoy your breakfast,” he whispered as he passed by her, pushing gently on her shoulder so she would sit down. He hurried to the front door, pulling it open to find Evan Coller, the boy from down the road, standing on the front porch, his hat in his hand and a worried look on his face.

“Say, Doc, you busy?” Evan asked, glancing around nervously, as though he were being watched.

“Not right now I’m not,” Leonard replied, already reaching for his medical bag. “What seems to be the trouble, my boy?”

“We got a fella holed up in our spare room needs tendin’,” Evan said. “Pop told me to rush down here and fetch you fast as I could, so here I am.”

“Just gimme a second, will ya, son?” Leonard asked. The boy nodded, and Leonard returned to the small kitchen, trying not to let the look in Jocelyn’s eye get to him as he gave his little girl a kiss on the top of the head, then turned to his wife and pecked her lightly on the cheek. “The Collers’ve got somebody needs tending,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

And with that, Leonard was out the door, walking alongside Evan Coller as they made their way down the long, winding road towards the Coller farm.

“What kind of a man you got waitin’ for me?” Leonard asked, making conversation with the boy so the trek wouldn’t seem quite so long. He knew the Collers well enough, but he rarely saw them. They were an oddly healthy family, only rarely needing the services of the good Doctor, so he didn’t know enough about the boy to start up any meaningful discourse. Discussing his soon-to-be patient would have to suffice.

“Well, that’s the thing, Doc,” Evan said, kicking a loose stone off to the side of the road. “We ain’t even sure he’s a man.”

Leonard came to a halt, surprising Evan, who whirled around to face him. “What d’ya mean, you aren’t sure if he’s a man?”

“He don’t look like a man, that’s what I mean,” Evan replied. “Pop says he musta been in an accident of some kind, way his ears are all pointed and his eyebrows are all high, but you wanna know what I think?”

“Sure, Evan,” Leonard said, starting to walk again with Evan scrambling to keep up. “What do you think?”

“I think he’s the Devil himself.”


	2. Canto Two: Devilish Anatomy

_Captain’s Log; Supplemental: My Chief Medical Officer is trapped in his own mind, my First Officer is making an attempt to get him out without harming his mind or his body in any way, and we’re stuck orbiting the planet where all of this started, where the inhabitants decided that we were some sort of threat and instead of trying for peaceful negotiations, took out their fear or anger or whatever it was on Doctor McCoy._

_I’m growing steadily impatient with this entire situation and have started toying with the idea of sending down a better equipped landing party. Though, with what’s happening to Bones, I can’t be sure even the strongest phaser would be of help. I can only sit and wait and hope._

**

I

**

 

“I hope you’ll forgive Evan,” Samuel Coller said as he led Leonard up the back staircase of the old farm house he and his family lived in, forcing an embarrassed smile onto his face. “He gets over excited sometimes, lets his imagination run away with him, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, it’s quite all right, Samuel,” Leonard replied with a light laugh. “I understand. Joanna can be quite the same when she wants to be.” They reached the second floor landing and Samuel led him down the hall to a door that stood slightly ajar. Samuel pushed it open and gestured for Leonard to enter first. He stepped through to find a tall, lean man lying on the bed, the covers kicked every which way as he tossed and turned, moaning in his fitful sleep.

“Do you need me here, Doctor?” Samuel asked.

“Nah, I’ll be all right,” Leonard replied. He heard the soft creak of the door being pulled shut, and a faint click as it latched, but he was already walking up to the side of the bed, staring down at the young man writhing on it.

And what a sight that was. He did, indeed, have pointed ears and high eyebrows, tilted in such an unnatural way, and Leonard had to stare in shock for a few moments before he could even begin to get down to business. He opened up his medical bag and pulled out a few items – all too advanced for this small farm town, but just what the doctor was used to.

He held a black and silver box tightly in his hand, pulling out a small attachment. It spun and whirred as he held it over the man’s head, guiding it down his body and back. He hovered over the man’s side, staring down at his instrument’s readings, wondering if there was some sort of malfunction.

He smacked the side of the machine and tried again; with the same results.

He tucked the attachment back where it belonged, then returned the machine to his bag, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at his patient. He shook his head, not sure how to proceed. This man was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Not just his ears and eyebrows (and was that a faint green tint he detected on the man’s skin?) but his internal make-up as well.

“I’m a doctor,” he muttered. “Not a veterinarian!”

**

II

**

 

There was a burst of light, a moment of confusion, and then the bridge crew stared up at the being before them. Tall and imposing, shrouded in darkness, a mystery unto itself. Captain Kirk couldn’t help but reach for the phaser on his hip, though he knew it would do no good.

“You are meddling where you do not belong.” The booming voice of the Qillaran leader rang through the bridge, a shiver ran down Kirk’s spine at the sound.

He took a step forward. “You’ve made my chief surgeon a prisoner in his own mind,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I have every right to ‘meddle’ there, as you so put it.”

“You do not understand, cannot understand. Let him be.”

A flash of light, and the being was gone.

“You know,” Kirk said to no one in particular. “I’m really getting tired of people telling me I can’t understand when they won’t try to explain.”

**

III

**

 

Leonard had drawn a chair up beside his patient and was shining a flashlight in his eyes, watching the dilation of his pupils. They seemed regular, but he still couldn’t get over what his tricorder had read earlier. If the machine was to be believed, this man’s heart was in his side. Leonard had chalked it up to a malfunction and had decided to examine his patient manually, but curiosity was quickly getting the best of him.

He set aside the flashlight and pulled out a good, old fashioned stethoscope. He hooked it in his ears and pressed the chest-piece to the man’s chest. He listened intently, raising an eyebrow in confusion at the muffled beat that did reach his ears. Wherever this man’s heart was, it wasn’t in his chest. Leonard moved the stethoscope down to the man’s side, to where the tricorder had recorded the organ’s placement, and listened. There it was, beating rather irregularly, but beating nonetheless.

Leonard slipped the stethoscope from his ears and dropped it into the bag at his feet, leaning back in the chair and running a hand over his chin as he stared curiously down at the sleeping man.

It was about then that the man stirred. A soft groan escaped his lips and his eyes blinked open, and Leonard couldn’t help but lean closer, his curiosity getting the best of him. The man looked over, catching the doctor’s eye, and tried to sit up; but Leonard’s hand was there, firm on his chest, to stop him.

“You’re a bit weak, my boy,” Leonard said, easing his patient back down onto the bed. “You’d best rest all you can.” He leaned down and pulled out his tricorder again, running it over the man’s body, head to toe, as he continued to speak: “now, then, where d’you hail from?”

“I am…not from around here,” the man said, hesitating only slightly.

“Well, I can see that,” Leonard said, putting his tricorder away, satisfied with the results. “Nobody ’round here recognizes you, for one thing. But what’s with them ears, boy?”

“Doctor, I am fairly certain I am older than you,” the man said. “It is therefore not necessary for you to continue to call me ‘boy’.”

Leonard waved a hand dismissively. “I call everybody ‘boy’, now and then,” he said. “It’s just a word is all, gets the point across, ’specially if I don’t know somebody’s name.” He cocked an eyebrow, looking pointedly at his patient.

The man nodded. “My name is Spock, Doctor.”

“Spock? What kind of a name is that?”

“It is my name,” Spock said, simply, matter-of-factly. Leonard almost wanted to snap back some sarcastic retort, but this man needed rest, not aggravation, even if he was aggravating his doctor.

“Well…Spock…you mind tellin’ me what happened to your ears?” Leonard gestured as he spoke, looking curiously at those strange ears that came to quite the point.

“I…got my head caught,” Spock explained, “in a…mechanical rice picker.” It was as good a story as any, he thought, and it spared him the difficulty of having to think one up on his own. He would simply have to remember to express gratitude to the Captain for coming up with it the last time he’d needed some sort of explanation.

“That so?” Leonard asked incredulously, that eyebrow rising up once again. He nodded slowly, then stood, picking up his medical bag. “Well, Spock, you rest up now. When you’re feelin’ stronger, you come on down to my place and I’ll make sure you’re good and healthy enough to be on your way, does that work for you?”

“It does, Doctor.”

“Good. Good.”

**

IV

**

 

“Anything?” Kirk asked the minute he stepped into Sick Bay. The look on Nurse Chapel’s face told him everything. “How long’s he been at it?” he asked, motioning towards Spock. The First Officer was still crouched by Doctor McCoy’s head, his face contorted in concentration.

“About a half an hour, Captain,” Chapel said. “But who knows how long that is for them.”


	3. Canto Three: Devilish Guest

_Captain’s Log, Supplemental: We are still in forced orbit around Qillar, despite the warning the Qillaran leader has provided us with concerning ‘meddling’ where we do not belong. I find it most disconcerting that they feel the need to warn us not to meddle now, with my surgeon already incapacitated and my first officer trying to worm his way into the man’s unconscious brain. I hate to think of what will happen if he can’t get through._

**

I

**

 

“I ain’t keepin’ him here any longer, Leonard,” Samuel said, leaning back against the banister as he and the Doctor came to a standstill on the stairs. “Folks are already startin’ to talk, and there’s no way they believe that crock about a rice-picker.”

“Man needs rest,” Leonard protested. “I can’t very well order him on his way now, he’s just startin’ to get better.”

“You don’t know that, Leonard. You know as well as I that fella ain’t human!”

“All I know, Samuel, is I’ve got a man needs tendin’ and I’m gonna tend to him.”

“Fine, then, you do that,” Samuel said, heading down the stairs. “But not in my home!”

Leonard heaved a heavy sigh and started back up the stairs, muttering under his breath as he headed for his patient’s room. When he entered, he found that Mr. Spock had sat up and was pulling on the shirt he’d been found in – a strange, blue, long sleeve shirt with odd decorations on the sleeves and chest. When it was on, Spock stood, draping his hands behind his back, and Leonard felt a wave of déjà-vu pass over him, but he shook his head and smiled at his patient.

“I am no longer welcome here?” Spock asked.

“Folks’re a bit superstitious ’round these parts,” Leonard explained with a shrug, snatching up his bag. “’Fraid of things they got no business bein’ afraid of.”

“I require no explanation, Doctor,” Spock said. “I merely inquire as to whether there is another place in this town where I might stay, as I have neither money nor transport.”

“Sure, sure,” Leonard waved a hand as headed for the door. “Come along with me. I’ve got a guest bedroom don’t get used very often anyway.”

“Are you sure it will be acceptable to your family?” Spock asked, not moving.

“’Course it will!” Leonard replied. “Don’t see why it shouldn’t. Joanna’ll love you and Jocelyn’ll understand.”

“If you are sure.”

“I’m more than sure, I insist!”

The good doctor led the way down the stairs and out onto the road. Bright sun beat down on the house and fields as the two men started off towards Leonard’s home. Leonard looked up to the sky, watching a gathering of dark clouds for a second before shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“Fine time to kick you out,” he muttered. “Samuel damn well knew there was a storm coming!”

“Will we not be able to reach your house in time, Doctor?” Spock asked.

Leonard looked at the sky again. “We might,” he said. “But those clouds are movin’ awful fast. We’ll be cuttin’ it close.”

**

II

**

 

Kirk turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling of his quarters. Nurse Chapel had ordered him to get some rest, assuring him that she’d call if there was any change, but rest was the furthest thing from Kirk’s mind. He’d tossed and turned, hell he’d even thought about having some brandy, but nothing was going to keep his mind off of the matter at hand.

“Why him?” he muttered to himself. He sat up and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes, letting out a long breath as he thought through different tactics he could use against the Qillarans, but there was nothing he could do without better understanding what he was up against.

“That’s it!” He slid out of bed and hurried from the room, running down the hall to the turbo lift. “Bridge,” he said, gripping the handle tightly. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this before. “Lieutenant, open a general channel to the planet surface,” he announced as he stepped off the lift and onto the bridge, making a beeline for his chair.

“Channel open, Sir,” Uhura said.

Kirk could feel the eyes of every member of the bridge crew on him, wondering what exactly he was thinking. He took a deep breath and began. “This is Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the United Star Ship Enterprise and I have a question for the Qillaran leader.”

That familiar flash of light filled the bridge and the Qillaran floated before them, blocking the view screen entirely. “Ask,” he said.

“Why?” Kirk asked. “Why Bones, he’s just a doctor, why not me? I’m the Captain, after all.”

“You are happy here.”

“What?”

“He is happy there.”

That was all the Qillaran said before the flash came again and he disappeared.

**

III

**

 

“I can’t believe you,” Jocelyn hissed as she scrubbed at the plates piled in the sink. “You didn’t even ask me, Leonard! Couldn’t you at least have asked?” She handed him the top plate and he dried it slowly.

“He’s my patient, Jocelyn,” he said. “He’s got nowhere else to go.”

“So? Find him a hotel!”

“He has no money.”

“Of course he doesn’t!”

“Jocelyn, please.”

“Please what?” She threw down the dish rag and turned to face her husband, her eyes narrowed in anger. “You bring this man into our home, this man you know nothing about, and you expect me to be perfectly all right with that? Have you looked at him?”

“He-”

“No,” Jocelyn said, holding up her hand. “I don’t want to hear about it. You treat him, you cure him, and you send him on his way.” She turned back to this ink. “And keep him away from Joanna.”

Leonard sighed and went back to drying the dishes. He knew better than to press the issue now that Jocelyn had it decided, but he wished he could make her understand, make her see that Spock was no more devil or demon than she was, but there wasn’t anything else to say. He’d just have to do as he was told.


	4. Canto Four: Devilish Plot

_Captain’s Log; Supplemental: I have one clue, one hint as to why they’ve done this, and it doesn’t make much sense. “He’s happy there.” Happy where? And why? These are answers I will not have unless Spock succeeds…until Spock succeeds._

**

I

**

 

“Tell me another story,” Joanna said, curling up tighter on the chair by Spock’s bed. She’d been enamored by the strange man since she’d first laid eyes on him and no decree from her mother was going to keep her away, no matter how many times he father scolded her.

“I have just finished telling you one,” Spock said, closing his eyes. He was getting stronger, but he still grew exhausted early in the evening. He supposed it had something to do with the Qillarans and the control they had over the dream, since it did indeed feel very real.

“I want another,” Joanna insisted, tugging at Spock’s arm and interrupting his thoughts. “Please?” Every night since Spock had moved into the spare room in the McCoy house, Joanna had come in and asked for a story, and he had obliged as best he could. He told her stories of his life on Vulcan, being very careful to make sure she believed they were purely from his imagination. He didn’t dare stray into stories of the Enterprise, to be sure he would not accidentally name her father as the CMO.

“It is late, Joanna,” Spock said. “I am tired.”

“Well I’m not,” Joanna said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are much like your father,” Spock observed.

“Stubborn, I know,” Joanna said, a broad grin quickly brightening her face. “Mama never lets me forget it.”

“Indeed,” Spock said with a nod. “And I am sure you enjoy being reminded?” Joanna grinned in response and Spock closed his eyes, thinking back to his childhood and trying to pick the next story for the night, but they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Spock opened his eyes to see Leonard poking his head in.

“Joanna, it’s past your bedtime,” he said. “You’d best get to your room before you mama finds you in here.”

“Aw, but Daddy!” Joanna protested.

“No buts,” Leonard countered. “You’re lucky I don’t add a few chores to your list for this. Now, hurry up, I’ll be there to tuck you in in a few minutes.” Joanna sighed, but she slid from her seat and hurried from the room, pausing to give her father a quick hug on the way out.

Spock waited until he was sure she was out of earshot before he spoke. “Why do you let her see me?” he asked.

Leonard shrugged and took Joanna’s vacated seat, pulling open his medical bag and digging around for a hypo-spray. “I don’t see any harm in it, really,” he said. “I honestly can’t believe Jocelyn’s buying into all this superstitious nonsense ’bout you bein’ the Devil.” He shook his head, loading up the hypo-spray with the medicine he’d prescribed for Spock. He finished and pressed the spray against Spock’s neck, listening to the familiar hiss that told him it was working. “There,” he said, standing. “Now, get some rest, will ya?”

“Are you not curious about the stories I have been telling Joanna?” Spock asked, forming a plan as he spoke. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he had to try something.

Leonard shrugged. “Fairy tales ’bout some planet or other,” he said.

“I have been telling her about my home.”

Leonard burst out laughing. “Your home? I know for a fact ain’t no place on Earth anything like what Joanna says you been tellin’ her about.”

“Indeed, Doctor, I am not from Earth.”

Leonard said nothing for a moment, then shook his head. “You just get some rest.” He turned and left.

**

II

**

 

Nurse Chapel stood watching Spock and McCoy in their Mind-Meld. McCoy had twitched a few times, his fingers tapping or his eyes scrunching, but for the most part he had remained still, and Chapel wondered if Spock was really helping at all or if his efforts would only make it worse. She tried to imagine the Enterprise without Doctor McCoy, but soon shook such thoughts away. They would only make this harder.

Suddenly, a loud rumbling filled the sickbay, distracting Chapel from any other thoughts of losing the Doctor that might threaten to depress her. She whirled around, looking for the source, but found nothing, and by the time she returned her attention to Spock and McCoy the rumbling had stopped.

Chapel heaved a sigh of relief, but she had relaxed too soon. The room began to shake violently, and Chapel fell to the floor, watching Spock in horror, afraid he too would lose his footing. But the Vulcan stood his ground, his face contorting just a little more with even greater concentration, and the shaking stopped.

Nurse Chapel waited a few moments before standing. She smoothed out her skirt and walked quickly to the comm. on the wall. She pressed the button and took a deep breath, calming her still shaky nerves before she spoke. “Captain, were we just attacked?” she asked.

“No,” the Captain’s voice came over the comm., confused and worried. “Why, what’s happened?”

“Sickbay shook,” Chapel replied. “But everything’s all right,” she added quickly, not wanting to worry the Captain any more than he already was.

“All right, I’ll have Scotty run some diagnostics,” Kirk said. “Keep me posted.”

“Of course, Captain.”

The minute she turned off the comm., the room darkened. Chapel whirled around, but still found no one there save Spock and McCoy. She blinked, wondering if the lights had failed, but if she squinted she could see they were still on, beyond the darkness. She hoped Scotty would hurry with that diagnostic.

**

III

**

 

Kirk leaned back in his chair. Scotty had just headed down to Sickbay to see if anything technical was wrong, and Kirk wanted to go with him to make sure his CMO and first officer were all right, but he knew there was nothing he could do down there. Not that there was much he could do on the bridge, either, not with the Enterprise completely out of his control.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He felt so useless, and he hated feeling useless.


	5. Canto Five: Devil's Failure

_Captain’s Personal Log: We’ve been here for hours, but hours are starting to feel like days, and still there’s no result. I’m starting to wonder if this rescue attempt is even worth it, if I’ll ever get my friend back. I can only hope, I suppose, but the situation seems so hopeless I wonder if I can even do that._

**

I

**

 

Spock rarely dreamt. Dreaming was related to feelings and emotions and long years of repressing such things had served to diminish the number of dreams he had. But, every so often, that pesky human side of his would break through while he slept and his guard was down, and he would dream.

This night, he dreamt of darkness.

It wasn’t just darkness, though, there was something in it. Some force trying to communicate with him. He looked around him, squinting into the darkness, trying to see. But he could only hear.

“Go back,” a raspy, deep voice said. “Go back and leave him here.”

Spock wasn’t sure how, but he knew they were discussing McCoy. “I cannot do that,” he said. “His place is on the Enterprise.”

“Let him have his happiness.”

Spock cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. “Was he not happy onboard ship, as Chief Medical Officer of the Federation’s Flag Ship?”

“This is what he dreams of, this is what he wants,” the voice insisted. “This is his happiness.”

“You have not answered my question.”

“Leave him be!”

Spock woke. His eyes flew open and he stared up at the ceiling as morning light filtered into the small room.

“Good, you’re awake.” Leonard’s voice came from beside him, but he did not turn his head to look at the other man. He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling as the doctor pulled up a chair beside him, preparing another hypo-spray and pressing it against Spock’s shoulder.

“Doctor?” Spock posed, listening to the clatter of Leonard looking through his bag.

“Hmmm?”

“Are you happy here?”

“’Course I am,” Leonard came into view, tricorder in hand. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Spock closed his eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on his heartbeats and his breathing, clearing his mind. Was this indeed what was best for Doctor McCoy? Was it logical?

**

II

**

 

Leonard leaned back in the rocking chair, closing his eyes and clasping his fingers behind his head. The setting sun was still shining brightly, warming his face and lingering over the fields and roads and houses. Leonard took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of wildflowers and clean air, then let it out in a long, contented sigh.

Contentment, however, only lasted until the front door slammed open and he jumped, eyes flying open as he turned to see Jocelyn standing just outside the door, one hand on her hip and one on Joanna’s shoulder. Leonard had to force himself to look her in the eyes, despite the anger in them, as he waited for her to speak.

“What did I tell you?” she demanded.

“What?” he asked, not trying to play innocent but honestly wondering what this was all about.

“I told you to keep her away from him,” she pointed towards the house, spitting out the word ‘him’ as if it were a curse. “And what do I find when I go looking for her?” Jocelyn paused, and it took Leonard a moment to realize she was waiting for him to speak.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“He’s fillin’ her head with nonsense about other planets and ships that fly in space,” Jocelyn replied.

“They’re just stories, Jocelyn, they won’t do any harm.” Leonard shook his head, cursing the superstitious little town he lived in.

“They’re not just stories,” Joanna piped up, and Leonard wished she wouldn’t. “They’re true. All of them. He really is from another planet and he works on a space ship and everything.”

“See?” Jocelyn said pointedly.

Leonard stood and walked over to his wife and child. He knelt down before Joanna, placing his hands on her shoulder and looking her in the eye. “They’re stories, Joanna, that’s all,” Leonard explained as best he could. “He’s made them up to entertain you, but they aren’t true.”

“Yes. They. Are!” Joanna said, stomping her foot and crossing her arms over her chest.

Leonard sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Why don’t we ask him?” he suggested, standing and holding out a hand. Joanna took it and he led her and Jocelyn through the house to Spock’s room. He knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open.

“Yes?” Spock asked as they came in.

Joanna pulled her hand from her father’s and rushed forward, jumping onto Spock’s lap. “Those stories you told me,” she said. “They’re true stories, aren’t they?”

Spock looked from the girl to her parents and back, then closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, opening his eyes and looking pointedly at Leonard. “They are true.”

The room shook and grew dark and a booming voice filled the space: “Give him his happiness!” Then it was over and Spock sat up abruptly in bed. Whether it was another dream or the Qillarans had manipulated Leonard’s reality once again, he did not know, but he did know that he had to make a decision soon or risk losing Doctor McCoy entirely.

**

III

**

 

Leonard leaned back in the rocking chair, closing his eyes and clasping his fingers behind his head. The setting sun was still shining brightly, warming his face and lingering over the fields and roads and houses. Leonard took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of wildflowers and clean air, then let it out in a long, contented sigh.

The front door squeaked open and Leonard smiled at the familiar sound of Joanna running towards him across the porch. He braced himself, and felt her weight as she climbed up to sit on his lap. Only when she started poking his ribs did he bother to open his eyes.

“What’re you doin’, little one?” he asked, smiling down at her.

She beamed up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I don’t want you to go,” she said. “I want you to stay right here with me.”

Leonard chuckled lightly. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Joanna,” he said. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“That’s not what Spock said,” Joanna countered.

“Oh, really? And what does Spock say?” Leonard asked, not bothering to scold Joanna for visiting the strange man, despite her mother’s orders.

“He told me another story today,” she said, leaning back against the chair’s armrest. Leonard kept his arm against her back, keeping her from leaning too far. “One about a ship that can travel in space, and he said he has friends there and one of them is named McCoy.” Joanna sat up and poked her father in the chest. “That’s you,” she said.

Leonard shook his head. “It’s a story, Joanna, it isn’t true.”

“Yes it is,” Joanna said. “Spock says it is.”

“Well,” Leonard stood, scooping Joanna up with him. “We can discuss this at length tomorrow, right now we have to get you to bed.”

“But Daddy! I was gonna ask Spock for another story!” Joanna protested.

“You need your rest,” Leonard said as he carried her through the house to her bedroom. “And so does Spock.” He set Joanna down on the bed and pulled her blankets up to her chin, then kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Sleep well.”

He turned out the light and shut the door, smiling all the while, then turned down the hall and walked to the guest room, pushing the door open and leaning against the frame. Spock looked up from a book he’d been reading, one of the ones Leonard had brought back from town for Jocelyn.

“Yes, Doctor?” Spock asked. “Is something the matter?”

“Just wanted to be sure you were all right,” Leonard said. “Comfortable, y’know?”

“I am quite well, thank you, Doctor,” Spock said. Leonard turned to go, but Spock spoke again, halting him. “May I tell you a story, Doctor?” he asked.

Leonard turned back to face his patient, then shrugged and walked into the room, sitting in the chair beside Spock’s bed. “Sure, don’t see why not.” He leaned back. “What sort of story?”

“Before I begin,” Spock said, not answering the Doctor’s question. “May I make a medical inquiry?”

“’Bout you or about somebody else?” Leonard asked.

“Somebody else,” Spock said. “A friend of mine.”

“Does this friend and his medical issue pertain to the story?” Leonard asked.

“It does.”

“Then I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. What’s your question?”

“Would it be possible for a man to live within a dream?” Spock asked. “I mean,” he continued at the confused look on Leonard’s face. “Is it possible for one’s dreams to be so realistic and vivid that one would begin to think they were the truth?”

“I suppose,” Leonard said. “But they’d have to be comatose for it to work, ’else they’d wake up and know it wasn’t real; unless they were sufferin’ a psychotic break or a delusion.”

“Thank you, that will suffice.” Spock sat up a little further on the bed.

“Now are you gonna tell me this story or not?”

“Patience, Doctor,” Spock said. “I must think of where to begin.”

And, with an oddly hypnotic, though emotionless, voice, Spock told Leonard the story of a group of travelers on a ship called Enterprise exploring a newly discovered world, as they often did. He told of the crew that beamed down to the planet with its apparent lack of life despite sensor logs indicating otherwise; and he detailed how their sensors were proved correct when the Doctor, one Leonard McCoy, was rendered unconscious and could not be brought around.

“Stop,” Leonard held up a hand, stopping Spock before he could continue. “Is this like those stories you’ve been tellin’ Joanna all the time?” he asked. Spock nodded. “Well, it’s all well and good you tellin’ her tall tales and makin’ me part of it, something familiar for her to imagine and all, but I am not a child, Mr. Spock, and I have no time for such silliness.” He stood. “Good night.”

He was just closing the door when Spock spoke again, “They are not stories, Doctor. They are true.” Leonard closed the door, not wanting to think about anything the Vulcan (Vulcan, he thought, where did I get that from?) had said.

**

IV

**

 

Leonard McCoy often dreamt, but never were his dreams so vivid, so real, as they were this night. He was walking down a strange corridor, through a door that opened without his help, into a contraption that carried him somewhere else. The door opened again to reveal a room full of people sitting at different consoles, all wearing different colored shirts similar to Spock’s. Spock was there, leaning over his own console and looking intently at something. A man in a gold shirt sat in a swiveling chair in the middle of the room and turned at the sound of the doors opening, a bright grin breaking over his face when he saw Leonard.

“Bones!” he announced. “Good to have you back.”

Spock looked up from his station and cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the Doctor. “Indeed, Doctor,” he said. “The Captain was most concerned about you.” The man in gold cast Spock an annoyed look before returning his attention to Leonard.

“Where’ve I been?” Leonard asked, walking forward to stand beside the center chair.

“Dunno,” the man in the chair (Kirk, Leonard thought. Jim Kirk) said. “But you were gone awhile.”

“Was I?”

The room grew dark and a creature appeared before Leonard, floating in a patch of light. Leonard just stared at it, squinting at the brightness, trying to see.

“Are you happy here?” the creature asked, its voice booming.

“Yes, of course I’m happy here,” Leonard snapped. “What kind of a question is that, anyway?”

“Then why do your friends wish you to remember?”

“Remember what?” But the minute he’d said it, Leonard knew what. Those stories Joanna was so enamored with, tales of adventure beyond the stars, a crew with him as their doctor, that was what they wanted him to remember. The creature seemed to be waiting for Leonard to realize. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head. “I dunno, maybe they’re not happy with what happened to me?”

“Does that matter?” the creature asked.

“If they’re my friends, then yes, it matters,” Leonard replied.

“Why?”

“Because my happiness is partially dependent on their happiness.”

“Would their happiness then depend on yours?”

“To an extent.”

“Then if you are happy here, they should be content.”

“If what Spock tells me is true, they don’t know I’m happy here.”

“He knows, he has seen.”

“That doesn’t mean he knows.” Leonard ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “Spock’s a Vulcan, grasping the concept that someone can be happy in a dream isn’t exactly one of his strong suits.”

The creature seemed to think for a moment, the brightness surrounding it dimming slightly. Then it looked right at Leonard, the light flaring up, and asked “Do you wish for your friends to be happy?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Then they will be happy.”

The room grew dark again.


	6. Canto Six: Devil's Success

**

I

**

 

Leonard sat up with a start, gasping for air. The dream was not frightening in itself, but Leonard felt as though his entire world was being ripped away from him. He looked over at Jocelyn, sleeping peacefully beside him, and took a deep breath, reminding himself it was all a dream. He reached out a hand to place it on Jocelyn’s shoulder, but his fingers went right through her, and as he watched she faded away entirely.

And as she faded, he began to remember.

He pushed the blankets from his bed and stood up, running from the room and down the hall to Joanna’s room, just in time to see her disappear as well. He clenched his fists at his side, and sank to his knees, not even noticing that Spock had emerged from his room, not caring.

“No!” he shouted, over and over, beating his fists against the wall. “No, no, no! Damn it, Jim! I’m not going to lose them again!” He leaned his head against the wall, his breath coming shakily as he fought back sobs. “Not again.”

The house began to fade, and heavy footfalls walked towards Leonard. He didn’t have to look up to know that Spock was standing beside him, didn’t want to look up. He closed his eyes as tears welled up behind them, turning his face away from Spock.

“Why?” he asked through gritted teeth. “Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?”

Spock knelt down beside Leonard, placing a tentative hand on the other man’s shoulder, but Leonard wrenched his arm away, standing and pressing himself back against the fading wall, glaring at Spock, his fists clenched at his side. “Get away from me you green blooded bastard,” he growled.

Spock said nothing.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” Leonard asked as the wall behind him disappeared completely and he took a step back. “You come in here, into my life, and you rip me away from my family? Is this some sort of logic puzzle? Am I supposed to answer some trick question so I can get my life back?”

“This was not your life, Doctor.”

“It was,” Leonard spat, stepping towards Spock. “It was, but it’s gone now.” He gestured helplessly around him at the imposing darkness that now surrounded them. “All gone, because you,” he pointed at Spock, “you had to go and meddle where you and your Vulcan mind don’t belong.”

“It was not real.”

“I don’t give a damn if it was real or not, Spock, it was real to me! I finally had everything I’d ever wanted, why would you take that from me.”

Spock draped his hands behind his back and began to pace, walking slowly before Leonard. The doctor watched his companion’s movement, trying to quell the annoyance rising in him at the calmness in Spock’s step.

Spock halted abruptly and turned to face Leonard. “Why did she leave?”

“She didn’t leave, Spock, she was never here.”

“I mean in reality,” Spock elaborated. “Why did she leave?”

Leonard stared at him. He wanted to snap at him, tell him it wasn’t any of his business, but he had a feeling he knew what Spock was getting at, and the more he thought about it the worse he felt for blaming Jim. “I was never there,” he said, his voice quiet. “I was so busy with work and being a Doctor I…I forgot about being a husband. A father.”

“Would this,” Spock gestured around them, “have lasted?”

“I don’t know,” Leonard conceded. “Probably not. I was the same here as I was back home, rushing off to heal the sick, not bothering to see if Jocelyn needed me.”

“So you would have handled your second chance the same as you handled the first?”

“Seems that way.”

Spock stepped forward and placed a hand on Leonard’s shoulder. “Do you wish to remain here or would you rather return to your duties?”

“You’re giving me a choice?” Leonard asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes, Doctor,” Spock replied. “It is a choice the Qillarans should have granted you in the first place. It was unfair of them to assume you would choose the dream over the reality, and it would be unfair of me to assume you would choose the Enterprise.” As Spock spoke, the house slowly began to fade back in, walls and floors solidifying around them, but Leonard hardly noticed. His eyes were on Spock’s as he fought with the decision, not sure how to proceed.

The doorway beside him returned, the door ajar and Joanna visible, curled up in a ball on her bed, sleeping. “May I say goodbye?” he asked. Spock stepped aside.

**

II

**

 

_Captain’s Log: Supplemental; Doctor McCoy and Spock have awoken. Nurse Chapel is keeping them in Sick Bay for a few more days for observation, but initial tests indicate that they are both fine._

_As far as explanations go, we currently have none. The Qillarans have not contacted us in any way except to release helm control, and they are not answering our hails. As far as understanding what has transpired goes, we are going to have to rely on Spock and McCoy and whatever observations they made._

_Finally, we can leave this planet behind._

**

III

**

 

“Come in,” Doctor Leonard McCoy called out at the familiar tone indicating there was someone at the door. He set aside the files he’d been looking over and leaned back in his chair, watching the door as it slid back and Lieutenant Commander Spock stepped inside. “What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?” he asked.

“I came to inquire if there was anything which I could do for you, Doctor,” Spock replied, giving the Doctor a pointed look. It had been a week since they’d left Qillar, and neither Spock nor McCoy had discussed what had happened beyond giving the Captain their reports.

McCoy wasn’t about to change that.

“I’m quite all right, Spock,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice of you to ask.”

Spock inclined his head in that irritating half-nod of his, but he did not move otherwise. “I am certain, Doctor, that you are not ‘quite all right’,” he said. “But I will not press the matter, as I am aware you humans deal with your grief in most illogical ways.”

“Thank you, Spock, that’s very kind of you,” McCoy said, waiting for the Vulcan to just leave.

Spock turned, but stopped just before the door and spoke, not looking back. “I will, however, offer to be available should the need to discuss the occurrence ever arise.” With that, the door slid open and Spock left. McCoy sighed, shook his head, and returned his attention to the slides and files he’d been working on before.


End file.
